Y., 26, MaschioUltimo accesso: 25 giorni fa

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  • Kwatja

    The Gutter Twins (alweer) - God's Children. Ik zie er wel uit als een stalker nu de rest van je shoutbox weg is trouwens :p gvd

    14 Feb 17:34 Rispondi
  • Kwatja

    Ja ik denk dus dat je het album 'No Map or Address' van Aestrid wel kunt waarderen.

    5 Feb 16:23 Rispondi
  • Kwatja

    Pine Box Boys - Will You Remember Me? + Emma Ruth Rundle - Shadows Of My Name

    7 Gen 14:21 Rispondi
  • Kwatja

    En.... Of The Wand & The Moon. Dark Folk, doet denken aan aantal nummers van King Dude.

    12 Nov 2014 Rispondi
  • Kwatja

    Probeer deze eens, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WoCSeIY0xdo Speech is uit 'The Great Dictator' van Charlie Chaplin.

    2 Nov 2014 Rispondi


I suppose this is where I introduce myself: I make music and I write and I tend to think a lot.

My profile doesn't really show everything I listen to (CDs I play while cooking, stuff I listen to on my mp3 player, which doesn't scrobble).

I'm involved in a few musical projects:
- Wilds Forlorn [atmospheric black metal]
- Monuments [NL] [doom / black] (second guitar,
backing vocals)
- Persephone [funeral doom] (guitars, backing vocals)
- Misarch [black metal] (guitars, probably vocals)
- Eater of Souls [atmospheric black metal]
- Verdom [thrash / black]
- Morna (second guitar)

“Loss is the greatest of teachers. It's a shame the lessons are nothing to look forward to.”

“I envy the man who still has, if nothing else, his doubts to wrestle with, for he is not completely damned. The doubting man, plagued as he may be, is alive in his longing for certainty. He cries out not in despair, but in the hope that truth might be revealed, that separation will be done away with, that his split self will be repaired and made whole again. All of this wonderful and invigorating doubt is no longer even a remote possibility for one who has consumed such things with impetuous hunger; this insatiable appetite has swallowed the very will to seek out greater sustenance. My doubts, once dear and motivating, rot in my stomach and intestines, incapable of being digested. It has been said that troubles of the soul are the result of dyspepsia; clearly I am the embodiment of this truth, for my stomach never settles, I never conclude with anything. There is a continual building up of discarded experiences, embittered sensations, thoughts and ideas. They do not pass through to make room for what should be an improvement on them--instead they linger and decay, tormenting my sense of smell with their putrid stench, the corrupt odour of their vanity inducing near constant nausea. Were I sick enough I could retch, bidding farewell to the poison that sustains and cripples me; rather will I hold it all down distastefully, resentfully deriving the tiniest vestige of power from the act of self-restraint. How much do I not allow myself, and how much license do I give where I should not! It is all backwards--what troubles almost no man fills me with the profoundest dread, and what troubles almost every man leaves me indifferent and mute. Most concern themselves their entire lives with trivial preoccupations; pleasures, sorrows, wants, needs, employment, and status. In their mindless activity they cheerfully forget the crushing burden, the frightful absurdity of their very existence. It is all very well for them to move along at a comfortable pace, setting a goal, achieving it, and then another and again; for each accomplishment that might bring about a lull in motion and introduce terrifying reflection, there is always another end for which further means are deployed. Somehow this industriousness prevents them from ever confronting the true end, the ghastly destination that is their birthright, their actual origin--dissolution, nothingness.”
-Caleb Caudell

“I do not believe in anything and I have no hope. All forms and expressions that give life its charm seem to me meaningless. I have no feeling either for the future or for the past, while the present seems to me poison.”
-Emil Cioran

“Life presents itself as a problem, a task to be worked out, and in general therefore as a constant struggle against want and affliction. Accordingly everyone tries to get through with it and come off as well as he can; he disposes of life as he does of a compulsory service that he is in duty bound to carry out. But who has contracted this debt? His begetter, in the enjoyment of sexual pleasure. Therefore, because the one has enjoyed this pleasure, the other must live, suffer, and die.”
-Arthur Schopenhauer

“The relationship of homo sapiens to the other animals is one of unremitting exploitation. We employ their work; we eat and wear them. We exploit them to serve our superstitions: whereas we used to sacrifice them to our gods and tear out their entrails in order to foresee the future, we now sacrifice them to science, and experiment on their entrail in the hope--or on the mere offchance--that we might thereby see a little more clearly into the present.”
-Brigid Brophy

“If you try to imagine, as nearly as you can, what amount of misery, pain and suffering of every kind the sun shines upon in its course, you will admit that it would be better if as little on earth as on the moon the sun were able to bring forth life, and if here as there the surface were in a crystalline state.”
- Arthur Schopenhauer

“I sit on a man's back, choking him and making him carry me, and yet assure myself and others that I am very sorry for him and wish to ease his lot by all possible means - except by getting off his back.”
-Leo Tolstoy

“I simply wish to refuse allegiance to the State, to withdraw and stand aloof from it effectually. I do not care to trace the course of my dollar, if I could, till it buys a man, or a musket to shoot one with,–the dollar is innocent,–but I am concerned to trace the effects of my allegiance. In fact, I quietly declare war with the State.”
-Henry David Thoreau

“Once you’ve negated everything and done away completely with all forms of existence, once nothing can survive in the path of your negativity, who can you turn to, laughing or crying, if not your own self? Once you have witnessed the fall of the entire world, there is nothing left but for you to fall too.”
-Emil Cioran

“What binds us to our grief, binds the sculptor to his clay.”
-Jerome Reuter

“I have of late—but wherefore I know not - lost all my mirth,
forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes
so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame,
the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory,
this most excellent canopy, the air, look you,
this brave o’erhanging firmament,
this majestical roof fretted with golden fire,
why, it appears no other thing to me
than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable!
in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god!
the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals!
And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?”

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